


When They Don’t Come Back

by MyMomThinksImCool



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Sad Peter Parker, Sad everyone, Sick Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-09-23 23:16:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20348449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyMomThinksImCool/pseuds/MyMomThinksImCool
Summary: **Avengers: Endgame spoilers **The Battle of Earth may have brought people back from the ashes, but Peter Parker feels like he’s going to be picking up the pieces for a long time. And he’s not the only one.The story begins at the end of the battle in “Endgame” and fills in what happened leading up to the funeral. Told through multiple POVs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s notes: This story takes place between Tony’s death and his funeral. It’s Peter-centric but switches POVs. The story picks up after a deleted scene from the DVD/Blu-Ray that showed all the Avengers kneeling after Tony died because that scene shouldn’t have been deleted, dammit!

He was on one knee like everyone else, but he wasn’t exactly sure how he got there. 

How did any of them get there? How were they now living in a world without Tony Stark? Without Iron Man. 

Nothing seemed right. Nothing would ever be right again. 

When he finally noticed the heroes around him rising to both feet once again, he couldn’t do the same. He was drained, both numb and feeling too much all at once. So he tipped to his right side a bit and leaned his weight against a large pile of debris, one hand making its way to his aching side in reflex to the discomfort the movement made him feel. 

Some ribs were broken, but he didn’t have the energy or awareness to care how many or how bad. It must have happened during that last fall from the sky, when he rolled and broke the spider legs off his suit.

His mask was off, but with a small nod, he covered his face. He didn’t want the others to see any more of his tears. Though he knew he wasn’t alone in his grief, he wanted desperately to be left alone. 

Had he been home -- Queens -- he would have attached himself to the nearest building and flung away. But there was nothing but destruction around him. 

And Tony in front of him. 

He could still hear Pepper’s sobs but kept his eyes away. She deserved her privacy -- even if was just an illusion. She was, after all, still surrounded by heroes. 

A few minutes passed before Mr. Rhodes -- Rhodey, he’d heard Tony call him -- made a move toward her. He whispered a few words to her and gently scooped up his friend’s body and began to ascend. 

It looked rather angelic as Rhodey and Pepper rose into the still-smokey sky. Peter felt a brief moment of fleeting peace at the scene before him and his tears momentarily ceased. 

_Thank you, Mr. Stark,_he thought, as he watched them.

As they disappeared from view, so did Peter’s composure. He let the tears fall once again silently behind his mask and fixed his gaze to the ground. He was too drained to make any sound. 

_I’m sorry, Mr. Stark._  
Tony.  
I’m sorry. 

He doesn’t know how long he was there, lost in his thoughts. It wasn’t until a towering shadow blocked what little light had been coming through the hazy sky that he came back to the present. 

“Hey, kid?” he heard someone say in a gentle, tentative and questioning tone.

He raised his head to meet the face of Steve Rogers, who was now squatting down to meet the young boy’s gaze.

“SHIELD is sending some transport in a bit. You should probably come with us, OK?” he continued in a tone uncharacteristic of his usual in-command persona.

Steve appeared to wait for Peter to respond, but quickly realized he wasn’t going to get a vocal one.

“Are you good to walk?” Steve asked. 

Peter shook his head affirmatively. 

Steve rose to his full height and extended a hand to sitting Peter, which he gladly accepted. 

As they walked toward the pick-up point, Steve walked behind and briefly put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and added two taps of assurance. 

Peter had no idea where they could be going, but it’s not like he had many options. What had Doctor Strange meant by “it’s been five years”? 

He must’ve heard wrong. It was chaotic. 

He needed an explanation. He needed explanations. 

Not that answers would change anything about the grief that weighed on his chest, heavier than the building that once fell upon him. 

He’d lifted that off. But this? In the moment, he felt like he’d never breathe again.

******

_Steve’s POV_

The plane was nearly silent. The occasional sniffle from one corner of the plane or another broke the stillness. Sometimes, it was his own.

Mostly, he tried to keep it together. Everyone on this plane was feeling the gravity of what just happened. A great battle won, a great man lost. 

After the fight, the heroes were slow to leave the scene. It was as if they were in shock. Eventually, most went their separate ways. The plane only carried those without magical or space-friendly means of transport.

He sat next to Bucky. Bruce had settled himself into a chair in the opposite corner, a seat over from Clint. Wanda was across from them. 

As Steve scanned the rest of the scene, his eyes fell on Peter Parker, who was off in a corner by himself. 

Steve knew how Tony had cared for the boy. Those first months after Tony’s return from space were among the most tumultuous of Tony’s life. Tony had confided that to him over a particularly angry drunken night that ended with Steve peeling vomit-covered clothes off of him before dragging him to bed. 

Watching Tony live in his guilt was unbearable at times. Tony became obsessed trying to figure out how to undo it all. He and Pepper nearly split for good. 

Steve was not sure when Tony turned a corner and began to heal, but he remembers being glad when he did. He was genuinely happy for his one-time foe. 

Over the years, Tony moved on but Steve knew he never let go of the grief of losing Peter. He just found somewhere to store it, which is really the best anyone can hope for after a major loss. 

Steve’s hunch with regards to Tony’s feelings about Peter was confirmed so much when he saw the picture of Tony and Peter on the shelf in the kitchen the day they had lunch at the cabin. 

Peter would have always been a ghost that haunted Tony unless he got him back. A small part of him was glad that he found peace with that before his death -- that he knew Peter was OK. 

Or, at least, would be. 

Right now, the kid was far from it. He sat with his mask still over his face, arms crossed protectively across his chest. He sort of looked to be sleeping, but then he saw the teen shift positions. He wondered if he’d felt Steve’s eyes on him for a moment too long and became self conscious. 

He may have super soldier muscles and build to match, but Steve had a talent for putting himself in those painfully awkward situations that reminded him too much of his old, 5’4’’ self.

“Be right back,” he mumbled to Bucky as he rose and walked in Peter’s direction. He hadn’t realized Bucky was asleep. 

As he sat down next to Peter, nothing in the kid’s body language seemed to indicate he knew he had company. 

Steve cleared his throat to speak, only to realized he didn’t know what to say. 

Painfully. Awkward. Situations. 

“We should be there within the hour,” he decided on. “Is there someone I can have called for you?” 

Peter finally looked up. 

“My aunt,” he said in a stuffy, small voice. 

May Parker. She’d been among those who disappeared. 

The night Tony got back, he immediately tried to track her down to break the news about Peter, but at her apartment, all the team found was a pile of ash next to the kitchen table. Her cell phone showed multiple calls to Peter’s school in the call log. 

Tony guessed she’d spent the hours between Peter’s escape from his MOMA field trip and the blip worried sick about her nephew, who unbeknownst to her, was in space. 

“I can have someone work on finding her,” Steve said in the most assuring voice he could muster.

“Finding her?” Peter asked, his spider eyes blinking in confusion. 

_Oh, shit._ (“Language!”, he admonished himself.) 

He didn’t know. As far as Peter knew, he’d been gone for a few hours. He had no idea it’d been five years.  


“Kid, we have a lot to talk about.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Xox

_ Original character’s POV_

Jennifer Garza was having an amazing day. 

She got an A on her math test, she spotted her crush Alison sneaking a look at her during lunch (_thank you, new corduroy mini skirt_), and her mom was making chicken flautas for dinner. 

For once, she was glad she’d opted not to pick up her favorite sandwich from Delmar’s on the way home. 

Looking out the window, she remembers that at first, she hated their new neighborhood. But when half of the world’s population disappeared nearly five years ago, real estate opened up all over New York City. 

Her parents had long been desperate to get out of their less-than-safe neighborhood in the Bronx. When they found this apartment in Queens for a steal, it felt like a silver lining to an otherwise really terrible situation. Still, she protested. HARD. 

Her friends were in the Bronx, her school was in the Bronx and it’s all she’d ever known. With half her friends and her school gone, she needed the stability more than ever. Or, so she screamed at her parents. 

With only two bedrooms, this place was still cramped quarters for her parents, her and her little sister. But it was spacious and seemed to previously belong to people who took care of the place. The Garzas were also lucky that their immediate family unit had been largely spared by the blip; only two aunts and an uncle she never really liked had disappeared. 

She felt bad admitting the latter to herself, but the truth hurts. 

She sometimes wondered what the family who’d lived in their place had been like. The landlord had cleaned out the place before they moved in, so she didn’t have many clues, except for a first aid kit and some science-y looking equipment she found one day in a compartment behind a loose ceiling tile in her room.

The kit had been well used. It was relatively empty and had small specks of dried blood on it. Frankly, it creeped her out and she’d tossed it in the trash not long after discovering it. 

She gave the science stuff to her sister, who was a bit of a nerd in the best way. She didn’t have the heart to throw out the picture she’d found covered in dust next to the two boxes. The boy and the woman looked so happy. 

He wore a yellow blazer with an emblem from Midtown High School on the breast pocket and was smiling ear to ear. She looked almost too young to be his mother, wearing high-waisted pants and a form-fitting top and a head of dark shiny hair down to her waist. Maybe they’d been siblings.

If someone came looking for it later -- she wasn’t sure who -- she wanted to be able to give them a piece of the people who’d been here before. Who’d lived their lives in this apartment before being cruelly taken away from all they knew. 

“Mijita, ven a cenar!” her mom called from the kitchen.

As Jennifer took her seat at the table, a rush of cold, unclean-seeming air met her face, like someone had turned on a dusty floor fan. 

She closed her eyes to shield them and couldn’t suppress the cough that found its way to her throat. 

She heard her mom do the same, followed by a blood-curdling scream. 

When she opened her eyes, standing beside her was a woman with wide eyes and a stunned expression on her face. It took Jennifer a beat to recognize her but then she saw it — a ponytail of long, dark hair. 

****

_Peter’s POV_

Peter couldn’t be sure, but it’s possible that he hadn’t taken a proper breath in 20 minutes. 

As Steve began explaining to him that he and half of the world had been gone for five years, his breath disappeared. He felt pressure in his chest, his stomach churned with anxiety and his head spun. He felt like was listening to him talk from underwater, catching only pieces of what Steve was trying to tell him. 

_“...five years.” _

_“...aunt, too.” _

_“...chaos...” _

_“Tony figured it out.” _

_“...a daughter named Morgan.”_

“I know it’s a lot to take in, Peter, but it’s going to be OK,” Steve said, placing a caring hand on Peter’s knee, bringing him back to full awareness. 

Peter opened his mouth to say something, but instead, he felt his stomach backflip. 

He stood as fast as his unstable legs would take him and ran straight to the small bathroom in the back of the plane. 

Unfamiliar with the plane’s layout, he was grateful that he’d been able to find the right door quickly. 

He only managed to half-close the door before urgently lifting his mask and vomiting harshly into the bowl. 

With every painful retch, his mind raced. 

_Where was May? Did she know where he was when she disappeared? Was she alone? God, he hoped she hadn’t been alone and worried about him. What happened to his friends? Tony had a child. And now he’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. _

By the end, he was convinced there was nothing left in him to sacrifice to the porcelain gods, lest he vomit an actual organ next. His stomach ached with emptiness and hurt from the force of what’d just taken place. He took a shaky breath to try to calm himself and that’s when he, for the first time, felt the hand that had apparently been on his back.

_Oh God. Please don’t be Captain America. Please tell me Captain America did not just see that. _

Peter was smart enough to know that luck just wasn’t his thing, so he knew it absolutely was Captain America’s hand. 

Peter kept his head down as debated with himself about how to proceed. 

_Now, NOW would be a good time to disappear again. _

With the contents of the bowl just staring back at him as he made his wish, he decided that instead of letting the smell catch his nose and start another round, it was best to lift his tear-stained, snotty head up. 

“You good for now, kid?” 

Peter reached up to the basin and stole a paper towel without showing his face to Steve, but nodded affirmatively in the process. 

Steve reached across Peter and pushed the button to flush the toilet for him. 

Peter wiped his face and blew his nose with the rough paper as turned to put his back against the wall of the small space. He wasn’t a large person, but the bathroom was cramped, so he couldn’t stretch his legs out straight while sitting on the floor. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve take a small bottle of ginger ale from Bruce, who’d appeared behind him in the doorway and squat to the ground, closer to Peter. 

Steve twisted the lid and held it out to the young hero, who accepted it with a shaky hand and took a sip. 

“He could be having a bit of space sickness,” Bruce spoke up. “He really didn’t have any time to adapt when Strange beamed him back.” 

“Or he could just be a kid dealing with a really traumatic day,” Steve countered. 

“Don’t talk like I’m not here,” Peter said quietly but soaked with annoyance. 

“Sorry,” Steve said, earnestly. 

Peter took another small sip and a deep breath before Steve spoke next. 

“Think you’re up for standing? We’re going to be landing soon and I’m guessing you don’t want to be at the foot of a toilet with blue water in it when that happens.” 

Peter heard Steve lightly chuckle at his own joke, more to break the tension than anything, Peter guessed. 

Peter went to grab the side of the sink, but Steve swooped in faster to help him up. Peter was embarrassed but grateful. 

As he glimpsed himself in the mirror, it was a startling site. His eyes were red from crying and each sported a black eye from the battle. His nose was streaked with dried blood and the harsh blue-ish bathroom light hit his sickly pale skin in such a way that accentuated the hollowness of his cheeks. He couldn’t recognize himself. 

Add a pair of yellow eyes and some red marks and he’d be a dead ringer for the Grand Inquisitor from _Star Wars: Rebels._

_I wonder if any Star Wars movies have come out since I dusted. Ned better not have seen any without me. That’d just be disrespectful to my memory._  
As they made their way back to the rows of seats, Peter walked with his head down. He didn’t want to catch the eyes of the other heroes, who heard him cry and spew his guts like the kid they’d always think of him as. 

_God, I need to get off this plane._

Peter took his seat and was surprised when Steve took one next to him. 

His head was still spinning with questions, but he knew he’d soon have his answers. He was surrounded by people who’d successfully gone back in time and brought back half the world’s population. They’d help him track down May in no time. 

Sitting there, though, he just couldn’t resist asking Steve one urgent query. 

“Steve?” 

Steve looked up as he buckled his seat belt.

“So...are you telling me Back to the Future is a bunch of BS?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Far From Home doesn’t really explain the beginnings of Happy and May, so I decided to write it and fill in some of Happy’s backstory in the process. I was hesitant to make a chapter that deviates from Peter so much, but it all comes back to him and will be useful in fleshing out some character stuff in chapters to come. It came out kind of long, but I hope you like it!

_May’s POV_

“_Mamá_, no!” the young girl screamed as her mother, who’d lifted her broom in terror and was about strike May, and rushed to wrestle it from her iron grip. She looked at May, “Did you used to live here?” 

“Used to? I LIVE HERE. Who are you?” May said from the corner where she’d cowered. 

That’s when May rose from the floor and looked around. Panic overtook her.

That wasn’t her kitchen table. There were no rings at the seat opposite her usual one, where a certain teenager constantly forgot to use a coaster. 

That wasn’t her couch, where she’s spent many late nights with Peter watching the classics, like _Alien_ and _Empire Strikes Back_, while soothing grief-stricken hearts, nursing bad fevers or easing troubled minds after nightmares.

The fridge wasn’t covered in A+ school work from a too-smart-for-his-own-good kid, who began begging her to stop putting his grades on display when he hit his teen years, which she took as a personal challenge to continue doing exactly that. 

As these realizations hit her in rapid-fire fashion, she looked up at the women before her with a pleading expression, “Where’s Peter?” 

That was an hour ago. 

Now “the woman from the picture” was sitting in the Garza’s living room, sipping a cup of coffee with trembling hands. 

The new occupants of her apartment couldn’t have been kinder, especially once the young girl, named Jennifer, worked out who she was. 

Mrs. Garza was immediately apologetic about the broom incident and set May on the couch with a blanket around her shoulders, trying to stave off the effects of the shock she worried had its grips on May. 

Jennifer looked to be about Peter’s age. Well, Peter’s age when May last saw him. He could be going on 21 now. As the Garza’s and her worked out what must be happening, May physically felt her heart shattered at the thought of leaving Peter behind. 

May was never a religious person, but she found herself saying a silent prayer that she hadn’t vanished from this world and left her 15-year-old, a boy who had lost so much in his life already, alone. 

Peter was strong, she told herself. And smart. He would have gone to Tony Stark’s. Or Ned’s. He would have found some help. He would have helped others how he could. He would not have given up, not knowing how much this world needed him. How much she’d need him when she’d returned. 

But what if he tried _too hard_? What if he’d hurt himself while Spidey-ing around and there was no one there to help him? What if he’d died? What if he needed her and she wasn’t there? 

The last thing she remembered from _before_ was feeling terror because Peter had left a school trip and hadn’t returned home. 

Ned didn’t have details on where he’d gone. She’d called the school multiple times, hoping he’d turn up there trying to meet back up with the class. Then she saw the reports about a big battle involving Iron Man and other heroes near Washington Square Park. She’d seen Peter in the footage, so she knew he was there. 

But if he’d been OK, he would have called to let her know. She knew in her gut five years ago that something was wrong, and she knew it to be true now. 

She didn’t even know where to begin looking for answers, though. 

Using the Garza’s phone, she called numbers she remembered -- Peter’s cell, Ned’s cell, Ned’s parents -- only to find most of them had been disconnected or with unfamiliar voices at the other end. 

She’d left a message on only a single number, Tony Stark’s. Well, at least she hoped it was still his. The generic voice mail message made her believe it could be, though. 

Sounds from outside the window pulled her out of her thoughts. Queens -- and probably the rest of the city or world, May guessed -- was in disarray. 

She could hear police sirens, ambulances and fire trucks blaring through the streets. She assumed some people weren’t so lucky when they’d appeared in strangers’ houses. All she hoped is that not too many people were hurt. 

She could hear some hysterical crying in the apartment next door and a woman repeating “you’re back” over and over again.

The thin walls remained unchanged, she noted to herself. 

Mrs. Garza walked into the living room from the bedroom where she’d been talking to her husband. 

“Your dad won’t be home tonight,” she tells Jennifer. “He says it’s chaos right now.” 

She turns to May, “He’s a doctor at New York-Presbyterian….Did you have any luck with your phone calls?” 

“No,” May sighed. “I’m so sorry. I’ve probably overstayed my welcome. Let me just get my…” 

She realized she had nothing and course corrected. 

“...Myself together and I’ll be on my way.” 

“Absolutely not,” Mrs. Garza said. “You will stay here. Jenny, grab the sheets, please.” 

“No, I really can’t impose.” 

“May, it’s not safe out there right now. Even if you had friends in town, I wouldn’t feel comfortable sending you out there alone,” the woman says. “It’s late, it’s dark, and it’s not wise. I know you’re worried about… Peter, was it?” 

May nods. 

“But he sounds like a smart, capable young man. You’re no good to him if you end up mugged or hurt because you went out in this,” she gestured to the window. 

May knew these lectures all too well. She’d given them to Peter dozens of times since she found out about his Spider-Man activities but had never been on the receiving end of one. 

Man, they sucked. 

Her heart was pulling her outside, telling her that any mugger or bad guy who tried to hurt her would regret the day because her veins were filled with an overwhelming, super human need to find her boy. Nothing would get in her way. 

She had to will herself to listen to her brain, though. 

As she was about to accept, there was a knock at the door. 

“Don’t answer that,” Mrs. Garza, warned Jennifer. “Go to the bedroom with your sister and lock the door.” 

Jennifer obeyed. 

Mrs. Garza was all-too aware of the desperation some people might be feeling right now and feared for her family’s safety. 

“It’s a man,” she said looking through the peephole. 

May stood up and grabbed a knife from the kitchen, before positioning herself behind Mrs. Garza. 

“Don’t open it,” May said. 

“Go away,” Mrs. Garza said. “We have nothing here for you.” 

“Mrs. Garza, my name is Happy Hogan, and I’m here looking for someone.” 

May’s heart stopped and she gasped as the knife fell from her hands and clanged to the floor. 

_Happy’s POV_

The door swung open and May Parker fell into his arms. 

He had been unprepared for a few things already tonight: 1) That devastating call from Rhodes. 2) The text from Steve Rogers himself, asking if he could go check Peter’s old apartment for any indication of May Parker’s whereabouts. 3) The eerie scene as he drove into the city from the Stark’s cabin, where he’d left a sleeping Morgan in the hands of a backup babysitter. 4) The pang in his chest as May hugged him like an old friend. 

They’d never been close, only casually friendly. They’d wave to each other when he’d drop Peter at home after “internship activities” or, after she found out the truth, exchange pleasantries when they’d cross paths at Avengers HQ. 

But at this time, on this day, the warm embrace of a familiar face made him aware of how broken his heart was at the moment. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he willed them to dry before their embrace broke. 

“I’m so happy to see you, Happy,” she said, earnestly, cupping his face in a way that told him she felt the very same way.

“Me too, May,” he said, clearing his throat and composing himself. “Are you ok?” 

“Yes, yes, yes. The Garzas have been wonderful,” May said. She turned to Mrs. Garza, “I can’t thank you enough.” 

Mrs. Garza smiled, skeptically. “Will you be ok with this man?” 

“Oh, yes, yes,” May said, assuredly. “This is my friend Happy. He’s … a friend. Thank you for everything. Really. Please take care of yourselves. Lock the door when I leave.” 

She turned to Happy, suddenly unsure. “We’re leaving, right?” 

“Yes, I’m … we’re going to Peter.” 

May smiled and felt tears spill. “Peter? Is he…”

“I’ll tell you everything on the way.” 

_2 hours later_

“Did Steve say anything else?” 

“No. Just that Peter was with him and I had to find you.” 

May nodded and stared out the window as scenery passed. 

The S.H.I.E.L.D. safehouse was somewhere outside of the D.C. area. Limited resources at S.H.I.E.L.D. as the world worked to right itself and a Stark fleet in limbo meant Happy and May were making the drive down to where the heroes had been sent. 

They spent the first two hours of the drive exchanging information. May, who insisted on sitting in the front seat with him, telling him what she remembered about disappearing (not much) and Happy catching her up on everything that’d happened in the last five years and five hours. 

May broke the first silence that filled the car in two hours. 

“Did Tony get to see him?” she asked. “Before, you know…” 

“I’m not sure. Rhodes didn’t elaborate much on what happened,” Happy cleared his throat. “Just, you know.” 

May nodded. 

“I’m really sorry, Happy.” 

“Well...” he said, giving a reticent shrug instead of finishing his thought. 

A part of him deep down always knew how this was going to end. He’d spent so much time with Tony Stark — that selfish asshole — over the years, that he knew he’d leave everyone in the lurch. That was Tony. Suck you in, charm you into loving him, flaws and all, and kick you in the balls with a smile, walking away while you were still on the floor. 

He felt bad thinking of his friend -- his best friend -- that way. Mostly because it wasn’t true. But, dammit, he was mad. That self-sacrificing jerk. What about Morgan? What about Pepper? What about him? He felt selfish thinking the latter. 

“How long did you all know each other?” May asked, pulling Happy from his thoughts. She’d made herself comfortable in the seat and her legs were now pulled up on the seat next to her. 

“I’ve worked for Tony since...well, it feels like 60 years,” he joked. “When I met him, he was kind of a mess. So was I, frankly.” 

“How so?”

Happy pretended to check his driving route on his phone to buy himself a brief moment to gather his thoughts and returned his eyes to the road. 

“I didn’t have any brothers and sisters,” Happy said. “My parents died when I was 16. And I just...got used to being alone.” 

May furrowed her brow with sadness. 

“Oh, no,” Happy said, attempting to erase the look of sympathy from May’s face. “It was fine. I never really felt like I was missing anything not having a group of friends or anything. Or any real friend, I guess.” 

He chuckled, trying to keep it light. 

“I think Tony just showed me what I never knew I was missing. Existing is fine until you realize there’s an alternative,” he said. “Tony knew how to live -- not just survive. He lived too much most of the time, honestly.” 

May smiled. She’d read the tabloids and knew, while garbage, there was always some truth to them. 

“But...he was family,” Happy said honestly. “He was my family.” 

He swallowed a lump in his throat. 

“I was his overpaid brother,” he smiled. 

Happy snuck a glance at May, who was staring back at him with soft, attentive eyes. 

“Peter is lucky to have you, you know?” 

May blinked at the change of subject. 

“When I first met the kid, learned his story, I’m sure you can imagine I related. But it was obvious he’d sort of gone down a different path than I did,” he said. “That was your doing, May.” 

She smiled, embarrassed. 

“Don’t give me too much credit. He’s a very smart, special boy,” she said, averting her gaze. 

“No. It makes all the difference in a kid’s life to have someone to tell them to eat vegetables, when to go to bed, or, just, get through things,” he said. “First fight, first failure, first date…” 

“That was just this year,” May said. 

“Better than it happening at 35,” Happy countered. 

“What?!” 

Happy remembers it clearly. He’d met the woman while picking up antacids one morning for Tony after a particularly bad bender. Later that day, he informed Tony that he couldn’t drive him to a benefit because he had a date. Tony’s eyes had bulged and a sly smile erupted on his face. 

“I’ve never been madder at him,” Happy laughed. “We went shopping, he picked out a ridiculous outfit that maybe would have worked if I was Tony Stark but certainly wasn’t what a pretty pharmacist had expected me to wear for a pizza date. We put mascara in my beard to make it look more ‘manly’ and full, according to Tony. My hair was all spiked up. I had these cheesy lines that I used all night. I tried to be Tony on the date and, believe me, I’m not Tony. She never returned my calls.”

“Oh no....” May said, trying to hold back more laughter than what had already escaped.

“When I got home, I told him how badly it bombed and blamed him,” he said. “I found out later she was married and an identity thief. She was arrested for it a few years later, had been running scams for years.” 

“Oh my god,” May said. 

“When I saw it in the news, I mentioned it to Tony and he acted all surprised, but he wasn’t,” Happy said. “I spent my life watching his back. I didn’t know until then that he had mine the whole time, too.” 

Happy couldn’t stop the tears now and pulled the car over, quickly turning his face toward the driver’s window and trying to decide whether to reach for the handle or not.

The road was not well lit, so he decided against it. Plus, getting back in would be more awkward than just staying put.

“Sorry,” he muttered to May. “I’m so sorry.” 

He felt a hand on his, which was clutching the wheel for dear life. 

“You’re ok, Happy,” May said, her other hand finding his back. “We’re all going to be ok.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this has been dormant for a bit. Life has been hectic. This story will be wrapping up soon, and I am currently noodling my next. Would love to know any thoughts or feedback you might have on character development or what kind of story you’d be interested in reading next, whether it’s a one-shot or something longer. Thanks for taking the time to read this one. It‘s my first and it’s been a really fun experience.

_ Peter’s POV_

_As the elevator doors opened and Peter stepped into the hallway, his throat seized. His lungs were taken aback by the dust in the air, every particle lit up by the orange, late afternoon sunlight that was coming from the small window at the end of the hallway. Someone must be renovating their unit, he thought looking through the cloudy air. _

_When he stepped into their apartment, he wrinkled his nose up in disgust. The dust had made its way into their home. _

_May’s gonna be peeved, he thought. _

_His normal beeline to the fridge was interrupted by a shriek from outside. Peeking head out the window, his eyes widened at the sight. The block was on fire. Nearly every building lit up in fierce flames. _

_Peter’s chest ached. He didn’t know where to start. How would he choose where to go? Who to save? _

_First things first, he needed his suit. But when he looked down, he saw his feet clad in spandex. He didn’t remember putting it on, but he’ll take it. Looking in the toaster, he confirmed his mask was on and ran to the front door. _

_When he opened it, he gasped. There stood Mr. Delmar, the right side of his face covered in red, angry burns that ran down to his fingertips. _

_“Mr. Delmar?” Peter asked, terrified. _

_“Save us, Spider-Man.” _

_“What?” _

_“Save us.” _

_“We have to get you to the hos…” _

_Peter was cut off as he noticed someone standing behind Mr. Delmar -- his daughter. _

_She too covered in ash and disfigured from burns running down her right side. _

_“Peter,” she pleaded. _

_“I’ll call the…” _

_That’s when Peter saw more people behind her, the hallway lined with severely burned people. _

_Peter backed into the apartment, overwhelmed by the sight. The crowd pushed forward. _

_“Help us, Peter.” _

_“Spider-Man, help.” _

_“Please, I’m in pain.” _

_“Call Iron Man.” _

_“Where’s Iron Man?”_

_“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do,” Peter sobbed. “I’m sorry.” _

_“Peter?” a softer voice said, coming from behind him. _

_He turned and saw May, charred skin and a pained expression._

_“May, no!” Peter cried as he ran to her._

_“Peter,” she said weakly, collapsing into him. “Peter. Peter” _

__

“Peter?” 

Peter sat up, with a gasp. 

“Hey, hey. It’s ok. It’s just me.” 

As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, May came into focus. She had one hand on his shoulder, the other combing back his sweaty curls. 

“You ok, bud?” she asked, eyebrows furrowed in worry. 

“I’m…” Peter lost the sentence on his lips and instead leaned into May. “I’m so glad you’re ok.” 

“Of course, I am,” she said as she pulled him tighter into their hug. “Are you ok?” 

He nodded. He was now, he said silently. He was now. 

_May’s POV_

To say circumstances felt complicated right now would be an understatement of the century, May thought. 

They had no home. She had no job. Peter hadn’t been to school in five years. He should be in his 20s, but he looked the same as he had that morning he left for his MOMA field trip and didn’t come home. She, gratefully, did too. 

They had no idea what had happened to their friends five years ago, who had stayed and who had disappeared. They had no idea what had happened in the world, what had changed, who was elected, who died. 

Again, complicated. 

But here, holding Peter -- her sweet, too-strong teenager -- she was grounded. She’d figure out the rest for them. She’s make sure he felt grounded, too. She’d get him through the grief she knew would grip him tight. She wouldn’t let him lose himself. And she would sure as hell never lose him again. 

Reluctantly pulling away from their hug, she gave him a reassuring smile. 

“Sorry if I scared you. I didn’t know it was possible to sneak up on you,” she teased. 

“Neither did I,” Peter said, running his hands through his damp hair as May’s hand left it. 

He’d fallen asleep in a chair in the living room of the safehouse. May had perched herself on an ottoman beside it. 

“What time is it?” he asked. 

“About 5 a.m,” May said, double checking her watch then looking back at him. 

She’d found him sleeping fitfully but didn’t move to wake him until he started making whimpering noises her heart wasn’t up for hearing in light of everything. 

“You look tired, tough guy,” she said, noting the bruises under his eyes that for some reason had not yet healed. “Why don’t you try to go back to sleep?” 

Peter shook his head. 

“Not tired anymore.”

She begged to differ. He looked wiped and pale. But she wasn’t going to force him back to sleep against his will. 

“Are you hungry?” 

“No.” 

“Yes, you are,” she said, bossily, gesturing to the untouched peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the table in front of his chair. “That yours?” 

“Uh, yeah. I guess I fell asleep before I could eat it.” 

“How about we go raid the kitchen and see if we can find something good? Maybe we can kick start that super-healing of yours and wipe out those shiners. Can’t have your superhero friends thinking I hit you.”

Peter smirked. 

“But you do. I’ll tell them the truth -- that I’m a child in crisis.” 

“Well, you’re technically homeless right now, so it’s partly true,” May joked, darkly. 

They both laughed. 

“Yeah, it’s going to take me forever to rebuild my t-shirt collection. I didn’t really realize I didn’t have clothes until they handed me these,” he said, referencing his plain white t-shirt and oversized grey sweats that he’d cuffed at the end so he wouldn’t trip. 

“Well, actually...” May started, unsure how to proceed, “Happy mentioned there’s a storage. Our stuff is all there.” 

“All of it?”

“I’m not sure. Just, um, whatever Tony thought was important, I guess.” 

May saw Peter swallowed hard. 

May continued, “He had it put away, just in case.” 

“Of course, he did,” Peter replied, turning his gaze to the window behind him.  
Happy had filled May in on the basics. She knew Tony died, rather heroically. She knew Peter had been there when it happened. She knew he’d never forget it. 

“Peter, look at me, please.” 

When Peter didn’t move after a few seconds, she tried again.

“Peter, please.” 

He turned. His eyes dry but brimmed with tears and his jaw clenched. 

“I know you’re not ready to talk about it. That’s ok. But don’t shut me out in the meantime. Please.” 

She brought her hand to his face. 

“And when you are ready -- whether that’s tomorrow, or next week, or next year -- I’m here. Ok?” 

Peter nodded almost imperceptibly. 

May want to believe that Peter would let her help him through this. But she also knew this was the kid who kept an entire secret identity from her for more than a year. 

She’d find a way to help him, though. He may be the one with super strength and super secret-keeping abilities, but she, too, had a few super powers of her own.


End file.
